


Small Sacrifices

by gretawhy



Category: NSYNC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gretawhy/pseuds/gretawhy





	

I could always tell when JC was thinking of him.

He would stop whatever he was doing and just stare at the wall, or at the floor, or out the window, or just off into space. Nine times out of ten he was writing. Writing always took him back in time, back to a place when he was truly happy. He loved writing now, but now it was more of a job, something he _had_ to do as opposed to something he _wanted_ to do. Sometimes, I wonder if he thought back then he had something worth writing about.

Sometimes, I would know thoughts of him filled JC’s mind not by him dropping his pencil in the fold of the notebook and staring, but by the gentle strains of the piano filling our house. He would always play some sort of sad song about losing love. Sometimes it was something that had been recorded, others, it was something he would come up with off the top of his head, his melancholy flowing out his fingertips onto the black and white keys. But no matter what song he started with, he always ended with their song. It would be changed into something more uptempo, a little jazzier, something the two of them did to make it truly theirs, but I would always recognize the underlying melody of "This I Promise You," no matter how many jazz chords JC added.

It’s times like this when I stand in the doorway of the room, watching the love of my life pour his sorrows out onto unsuspecting piano keys, that I wonder why I do this. Why do I insist on making myself miserable for him? Why do I let myself hold back my own pain, my own tears for him?

My anger towards myself slowly turns around and I get angry with JC. This isn’t what I want! My fights with JC’s memories of him, it’s not what I deserve! I deserve all of his love, not just a portion of it!

But how can I compete with the memories? How can I live up to what JC thought he had years ago? Why do I have to share him with someone who may or may not even love him?

I suppose I knew what I was getting into all those years ago. JC and I had been dating for a while when he realized he was bisexual. I always wonder if I should have seen it coming. Were there signs, subtle clues that could have pointed to this?

When he told me, I was stunned. When he told me he and Lance had discovered this fact together, I was betrayed. How could he treat me like that? How could he think so little of our relationship to shack up with Lance one night while on tour? But then I looked at him, and he looked so lost, so lonely, I couldn’t stay mad at him. I swallowed my pride, my own hurt and I stood up and just hugged him. He sobbed on my shoulder and I knew that I could never turn my back on JC Chasez.

I took so much abuse for him, and I don’t think he even realized it. I stuck around, being the beard he needed to cover up his true relationship. I endured icy glares from Lance when I wanted to hold JC’s hand, I endured the screaming Lance decided I needed when I got a little too close to JC at a party. I endured the fans comments about me, picking apart everything I did, from what I wore to the column I wrote. I was called a bitch. The fans spoke of me and said I always looked miserable, like I didn’t want to be where I was.

Well, who would? Who would want to be next to the man they loved and not be allowed to kiss him, or touch him, or just spend some time alone with him? They never realized the sacrifices I made for JC, they just saw what they wanted to see. And I sacrificed a lot.

But this, what I’m about to do right now, is going to be the biggest sacrifice of all.

*****

He doesn’t hear me at the door. I know because the sounds of his jazzy rendition of their song still flow through the air into my ears. I watch his back and take a deep breath, getting the nerve to actually go through with this.

“JC?” I ask quietly as not to disturb him.

His hands falter on the keys at the sound of my voice and he turns, startled. “Bobbie? What are you doing here?”

I want to remind him that I live here, but that would start this conversation out on the wrong path. Moving into the room, I speak quietly, “I heard you playing and I wanted to talk to you.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and it’s gone before I can read the emotion. Maybe it’s pain from the memories that flood his mind, maybe it’s annoyance at me for interrupting, maybe it’s something all together different. I suppose I’ll never know.

“What’s up?” he asks, immediately switching back to JC mode.

His change of mood is nothing new to me. See, that’s another thing he does when he thinks of Lance. He’s depressed and melancholy one minute, and when I enter the room he’s happy.

“We need to talk,” I say, moving to the couch opposite the piano. He turns on the bench to study my movements, looking for any hint of what I’m going to say.

Shrugging, he says, “Okay. About what?”

“Lance.”

He stiffens. His eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but at me. He turns his body back to the keys, because the keys are safe. The keys won’t ask any questions he doesn’t want to answer. His back is rigid, “What about Lance?” he asks me stiffly.

“Are you ever going to get over him?”

“I’m over him,” he mumbles.

That’s the last straw for me. After all I’ve done for JC, he’s not going to lie to me, not now. A bitter laugh escapes me before I have the chance to choke it off. He looks up, startled at the sound and I shake my head. “Give it a break, JC, I can see you’re not over him.” I motion to the piano, “You sit in here and play your song for hours and you want me to believe you still don’t have feelings for him?”

He hangs his head, “Bobbie, I can’t do this right now.”

“Why not? Why can’t we do this now, JC, because what you’re doing to me is killing me.” I lower my voice and he looks up at me, finally meeting my eyes. “I can’t live like this anymore, JC. I can’t live my life knowing I’m second place in your heart.”

“You’re not,” he says. “I chose you, not him, I love you.”

It’s almost funny how history has a tendency to change to a person’s liking. In this case, JC thinks he had a choice, when in actuality, it was all Lances’ decision.

Lance had done suprisingly well in his movie debut, better than anyone expected. Suddenly, he had offers from other production companies, offers to do movies with actual movie stars, not just Joey. He would have meetings everyday with directors and producers, tossing back and forth ideas, haggling over how much it would cost to have Lance in a movie. Between that and his work with FreeLance, there was no time for JC.

And who was there to pick up the pieces? I was. I was there when JC was left home alone on a Friday night because Lance had to go to some Hollywood party, and JC couldn’t go. I was there when JC called because Lance stood him up because he had some “meeting at FreeLance that just came up and can’t wait.” I was there when JC and Lance had their final fight.

 

_“You don’t have time for me anymore, Lance! I never get to see you!”_

_Lance rolled his eyes, “Come on, JC, let’s not get into this right now. I have a meeting in an hour.” He continued to move around the office, putting papers in his briefcase. “Look,” he continued, his back to JC, “I’ll see you tonight at rehearsals.”_

_I watched a pained look cross JC’s face as he realized Lance wasn’t going to cancel his meeting. I put my hand on his arm, and he glanced at me, the pain in his eyes evident._

_“Lance, please,” he whispered quietly, “can’t you cancel the meeting? I just want to spend some time with you.”_

_Lance shot me a look, “You’ll be fine,” he said to JC, “You have her.”_

_“I want you,” he said softly. And I pretended not to feel the pain that sliced through my own chest at his words._

_Lance stopped his motions and looked at JC. For the minute he stood silent, I actually thought that this time JC had gotten through to him. “I’m sorry,” Lance said to him. Lance glanced at me and I could just tell he was wishing I wasn’t there. “Look, JC, maybe after this month, you know? After the meetings die down and we start recording the new album.”_

_JC shrugged, “Whatever.”_

_Lance began to get angry, “You know what? If you’re going to be like that, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He picked up his jacket, “Maybe we should just break up, JC. I mean, we’re hardly together any more anyway, it might just be for the best.”_

_Tears were in JC’s eyes, “Is that what you want?”_

_Lance’s face softened for the first time in a long while. “It’s what’s best,” he replied._

 

Now I watch JC, the memories of that day in my head. “You know I love you, JC,” I said and he nodded, his gaze on the carpet. “And I’ve given up so much to be with you, JC. I waited around like a love sick fool while you and Lance were together, I picked up the pieces of that relationship and gave you everything I had.” I felt my throat tighten, “But I just can’t do it anymore, JC. I would fight to the death for you, but I can’t fight someone who isn’t even here! I can’t fight your memories, no matter how hard I try.”

“I love you, Bobbie,” he said to me, his own voice catching, “I need you.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe him so much that I almost get up and go to him and hold him and tell him that everything is okay, that it’s just my petty insecurities that are standing in the way. I want to believe that the tenderness I see in his eyes sometimes is real, that it extends further than the minute that it’s visible.

But I can’t. I can’t believe that he can let Lance go. I can’t believe that even after all these years away from Lance he can let go of his true love.

That thought hits me like a ton of bricks. That’s the problem here. Suddenly everything is clear. Lance was JC’s one true love, his soul mate, his chosen partner. JC fell so hard and so fast and felt so deeply for Lance that there’s just not enough room in his heart to let another person in. The place that Lance holds in JC’s heart takes up too much space for another to reside.

“I want to believe you, JC,” I say in response to him. “I just can’t. Your actions won’t let me.”

“That’s not fair!” he explodes.

“I don’t care if it’s fair or not, JC!” I yell back, “it’s how I feel! I feel like I’m in second place with you and no matter how hard I run, I’ll never catch up to Lance!”

We stare at each other from across the room for a long minute. The silence stretches between us and I don’t want to be the first to break it. I want him to admit that I’m right. I want him to say he’s sorry and that he never meant to hurt me, and that he does love me, he just has a hard time showing it.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “You’re right, I haven’t been fair to you. I haven’t given you a fair shot.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding with a sob. Even though he said exactly what I wanted to hear, it still hurt like hell. “You do love him,” I manage to get out.

JC hangs his head, and it’s all the answer I need.

My tears are running down my face. “God,” I choke out.

He raises his head and looks up at me. I’m standing before him and he looks so small on the piano bench, he looks so scared that I’m not sure I have the strength to go any further.

Taking a deep breath, I turn away from him. I reach for the phone on the end table and look at it for a minute, knowing I could possibly hold the fate of my relationship in my hands. Turning to him, I take a deep breath. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

JC shrugged, “Last month, the month before, I don’t know.” He dropped his voice to a whisper, “It’s not the same between us, it’s awkward, so I don’t really call him.”

Of course it’s not the same, I want to yell. It’s weird, it’s uncomfortable because you want him! You want to take him in your arms and never let him go! You want him to remember what it was like in the beginning, when you were falling in love so hard, so fast, that you couldn’t fathom life without the other.

I say none of the things raging in my mind. I keep it all to myself as I step towards him and hold out the phone.

He looks up questionably, and I hold my voice steady as I speak. “This is your call, JC. You know in your heart what you want to do. If you want to be with me, I’ll gladly take you, I don’t want to let you go.” My voice began to get shaky, but I continued, “But if you want to be with him, I will let you go. I will move out of the house and start my life over without you.” I meet his eyes, “It’s your call.”

Neither of us moves for a long minute. The seconds tick away as he stares at me, searching my face for a sign that I’m kidding. But I’m not. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I try not to think about the fact that JC holds the fate of our relationship in the palm of his hand. I try not to think about the fact that my fate lies in the hands of a simple telephone call.

JC stands and reaches for the phone. I don’t want to let go of it, and our hands drop to our sides, our fingers joined on the phone. His free hand comes up and touches my face, wiping away the tear that travels down it. I shut my eyes against his touch, briefly leaning into his hand. His thumb catches another tear and his fingers rest on my cheek. I feel him moving closer to me, and I don’t open my eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, so softly I’m not sure I hear it. Then he kisses me gently on the lips.

With a gentle tug, he takes the phone from my hands.

I can’t even open my eyes to watch him walk out of my life.


End file.
